Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I overdosed on LSD like a hundred times in three days, and if it would make me a better writer, or if it might lead to some kind of mental breakdown colored with schizophrenic tendencies that could in turn make me an even better writer. I’m not making light—I actually wonder these things. Plain ol’ alcoholism just doesn’t seem dark enough these days, and I haven’t had a drink since 1989, which means my cells have rejuvenated themselves enough times that no part of my physical body even remembers what it’s like to be drunk. Like when “old lady” Rose was talking about Jack to everyone in Titanic, she said something like “he exists now only in my memory.” It’s like that. My drunk days are at the bottom of the ocean.
So I saw this epic work of art today from an artist named Karen May Sorensen:
What’s fascinating and brutal about it is all this. And it made me super sad. And curious.
Why are people shooting firewater at the unicorn? He looks like he’s in pain. And violence is never the answer.
And why does the tall chick get a machine gun while the little girl with the crown gets a handgun?
Why are the boy and girl angel’s tongues intertwined?
Why is a giant red serpent about to chomp someone’s head off?
What is the three pronged, bulbous-topped cane looking thing the girl is holding with her left hand?
Whatever’s going on here, I think this chick deserves a parade. It’s gorgeous. It’s twisted. It’s deceptively colorful. It’s inspired by something completely uncool and fucked up, that being schizoaffective disorder. It’s rad. Way to go.